


Games for boys

by sloganeer



Category: The West Wing
Genre: Multi
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2008-03-01
Updated: 2008-03-01
Packaged: 2017-10-03 02:51:53
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,032
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13399
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sloganeer/pseuds/sloganeer
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>One night a week, Josh promised he would stop, breathe, sit down, and sometimes they don't even talk.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Games for boys

**Author's Note:**

> Post-series. For ljcomm=picfor1000.

Chess didn't last.

Josh gave up before their first hundred days. But they've kept the date. Once a week--whatever day works, but once a week, without fail. Sam doesn't frisk him at the door and Josh doesn't try to smuggle his Blackberry in. It's the closest they've ever come to a coffee break.

"You don't have to keep losing," Sam told him over their last game. He took Josh's king, but gave him the last piece of pepperoni pizza. It's hard enough to get Josh to stop working, Sam doesn't fight him on the food. He lets Donna take care of that.

They played with the set Sam keeps in his office, the one from the President, the one from the Prime Minister of India. Hand-carved camel bone made for a sixteenth century musician, but that doesn't stop Josh from throwing his pawns at Sam's head.

Sam showed up for senior staff and saw Hungry Hungry Hippos on Josh's desk.

"Donna," Josh says, and hides it in his bottom drawer before everyone arrives.

"We'll play Risk next week," Sam offers. "You might even win a few." He takes his seat, the chair in front of Josh's desk in Leo's old office. He can see the whole room, ending the meeting if it needs ending, and moving staff to the next thing if they need moving.

Chess was part of the deal, or the break, at least, one of Sam's conditions for moving across the country. One night a week, Josh promised he would stop, breathe, sit down, and sometimes they don't even talk.

Sometimes, that's all they do.

"He needs to focus on something other than Kazakhstan."

"I know." Josh picks one of the tiles from the pile in the middle of the table, discarding it. They both picked up the game pretty fast. They learned it together.

"He's going to burn out."

After Josh vetoed chess, he suggested they bring back the poker games.

"You can't play poker with two," Sam reminded him, standing outside the Oval.

"We'll make it a thing," Josh said. Ronna let them inside. "You play poker, don't you, Ronna?"

"I don't."

The idea of poker night floated around the bullpen for a week before the resignation of the Attorney General distracted them all. Sam and Josh camped out in the mess, taking turns at Mahjong solitaire on Sam's laptop, waiting for West to come home from a Panama cruise to fill the spot and calm the press.

"Four bamboos," Josh said over his shoulder.

"I see it, I see it."

Sam grabbed lunch in Chinatown a day or two later, picked up a set of Mahjong tiles, chips, and dice, in a nice green box. No camel bone or hand calligraphy, but it would do them until Santos made his first China trip. Bram hiked over to the Library of Congress for instructions when Sam discovered no English translation in the box. It might be a while before they made a China trip, and they would have to teach themselves the game.

"You see Charlie's memo on the Education bill?"

They both laugh. "He rolled it into my office on a cart. I thought it was the bill," Sam says. He grabs a tile. He's still looking for north wind.

"I told him to get it down to ten, and I'd show it to the President."

"It's good. Not perfect, good."

Josh hums, bites his lip, and lays down a meld.

Donna used to drop in on their games, but one too many cracks about blue rinse and rheumatoid arthritis got her banned. She takes the car, and Sam drops Josh at home when they're done. The next morning, whether it's a Monday or a Saturday, Josh is good, rested and ready to get back to work.

It was never like this the first time around.

They throw all the tiles on the table, and Sam shuffles them, pushes them back and forth. His fingers are greasy from the pizza and getting the tiles flipped over takes longer than he'd like.

"We should keep score," Josh says. He gets up to stretch. Sam watches his shirt ride up.

"You said you wanted to play for fun."

"That was before I was winning."

Sam wouldn't say Mahjong is easier than chess. There's more to know, to remember. There are 144 tiles--Sam doesn't know what they all mean, but he's learning. The way they play, a combination of poker, Go Fish, and what Sam found on Wikipedia, literal translation isn't important. Two symbols that look the same go together. Sometimes three, four, but it always starts with two.

"When will we go to China?" Sam asks.

Josh flips his chair around to sit backwards. He helps flip over the last of the tiles, then takes his thirteen. "After Kazakhstan."

"You don't think there's something to be said for a face-to-face negotiation. You don't think he could get something done over there, in the room."

"Not now, Sam."

Sam takes his tiles. This isn't his office, or Josh's office--this isn't where they fight. They talk shop because they wouldn't be Sam and Josh if they didn't, but this isn't where they fight. Here, these guarded nights of quiet, they play Mahjong.

Sam smiles to himself. Donna was right about the blue rinse.

Chess was President Bartlet's game. Santos is a campaign dream, out on the front lawn every chance he gets, throwing a ball with his kids. They watch from a window, and Sam can see re-election on Josh's face.

They still haven't talked about Sam's run in the 47th. He thinks Josh is being nice, but he doesn't know why. One day, it will come down to them. The two of them. Sam will run, and he's not scared, because he's in the room now. Because Josh came to get him, because they're enjoying it this time.

Josh squints at his tiles, standing on edge on the table. His mouth goes down, and his eyebrows go up. Sam can read everything.

Mahjong looks like a hard game, if you try to take it all in at once. But it all starts with two that match.


End file.
